


Brana Kru

by Johannas_Motivational_Insults



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 08:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johannas_Motivational_Insults/pseuds/Johannas_Motivational_Insults
Summary: Echo receives a nightblood treatment Mount Weather style in Becca's lab to clear her radiation sickness, unearthing memories she'd rather leave buried.





	Brana Kru

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly after 4x12 ends. Written with no knowledge of any finale spoilers - all I incorporated was the split second we saw of Echo in the trailer.

Weak and nauseous. Trapped with the enemy in a sinister looking lab. At the end of her rope, trying desperately not to fall to pieces. How did she even get here?

The last couple days of Echo kom Az... Echo’s life are almost too much for her to process. What seems like mere hours ago, she was sniping rival krus’ champions from a window in Polis, doing what she could to help save her people. Now, they’re no longer her people, thanks to Bellamy and Roan. She could forgive Bellamy the impulse to protect his sister, but after all she had done for Roan, him banishing her for cheating in the conclave was the biggest indignity. He hadn’t even been in Azgeda territory for years until Lexa murdered Queen Nia and put him on the throne. And he had the nerve to exile one of his mother’s most loyal servants?

There was no point feeling sorry for herself. That was what Echo wanted to think, at least. She strode out of the temple with her head held high to spite Octavia, that lying imposter of a _Heda_. Echo shouldn’t have been surprised that Octavia tricked her into silence about Skaikru’s latest betrayal of the coalition, given she almost killed Octavia that one time. By accident, but still. But the fact that Bellamy stood by and did not try to defend Echo when Octavia turned on her, it hurt her in a way she could not entirely comprehend. For all their conflicts, she’d always felt like his ally at heart. All the times she’d saved his life couldn’t have swayed him just a little? No, not where Octavia was concerned. She should have known.

Bellamy’s current absence from the lab has for the moment ripped away the one shred of security she has left. He and most of the others are out gathering supplies for their impending launch into space, while Raven is running simulations in the rocket. Of all the unforeseen things that have occurred in the last 48 hours, being told she was going to go to space to survive _Praimfaya_ is by far the most absurd. But it is better than dying in a wave of radiation, which looked to be her fate until she overheard Murphy talking to Bellamy about the bunker on this island.

It wasn’t entirely a coincidence that she was sitting in the temple, mourning all she had lost and what could have been. Echo doesn’t give up. Even in that state of despair, she was trying desperately to think up some way to get inside that bunker, to bypass Octavia or make a deal with her or something. She hadn’t slept since the conclave. How could she sleep, knowing she was about to die? As weary as she was, there was no time left for her to waste. She could, quite literally, sleep when she was dead.

Echo had known for years that she could die any day. Such is the life of a warrior. But staring down her imminent demise was something else altogether. It was not the clashing of swords, but the slow, silent tick of a clock counting down to oblivion. Dying in battle was something she was prepared for, something she could tell herself she did not fear. It would at least be quick, and honorable. But sitting, waiting for _Praimfaya_ to take her? It was not a good death. And after her banishment, she was doomed to die dishonored. And alone.

“Echo?” Wanheda’s voice mercifully breaks into her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. Waving Echo over to the table where she stands, Wanheda urges her, “Echo, c’mere.”

Echo has never been the type to take orders from anyone other than her monarch, but now she’s hardly in a position to refuse any of these Sky People, not when they could easily leave her behind to die. And honestly, she lacks the energy and confidence to protest, so lost in this new reality of hers. So she shuffles over, folding her arms across her stomach as she nears the table.

Two chairs sit beside the table, a metal stand with a hook behind them. Eyeing the ominous setup warily, Echo starts, “Wanheda-”

“Clarke,” the short blonde corrects her over her shoulder.

“Right, Clarke. Okay.” Joining Clarke at the table, she puzzles over the equipment strewn across its surface. A clear plastic bag, tubing, valves. “What is all this?”

“It’s your treatment. Now that we’re here, I can do better than the suit.”

Echo is lost until she spots the packaged needles buried under the tubing. Just as Clarke reaches out to touch her wrist, she’s struck by an onslaught of memories. Memories of being tasered and drugged. Of being hung by her ankles with tubes jabbed in her neck, sucking the life out of her. Snatching her arm away, she jumps back, bumping a chair that then knocks over the metal stand. The clatter of it hitting the floor rings much too loudly in her ears, startling her into a fighting stance. “Stay away from me, you sick bitch!”

Raising her hands in a peaceful gesture, Clarke edges closer. “Echo…”

“Take another step and I’ll fucking end you,” she hisses through gritted teeth.

A sound from the rocket catches both their attention, and as they look over Raven pokes her head out the door. “Clarke?” she calls across the floor. “Is everything okay out there?”

“It’s fine, Raven,” Clarke assures her in a calm tone that only serves to further infuriate Echo. “We’re fine.” Echo has only a couple seconds to fruitlessly search for anything she could use as a weapon before Clarke is taking that forbidden step forward. She extends a hand, one Echo swiftly smacks away.

“Don’t touch me! You’re not taking my blood!”

“You’re right,” Clarke answers earnestly. “I’m giving you mine.” Echo’s confused blink prompts her to explain, “It’s reversed. I have nightblood. I’m hoping if we treat you with it, it will help metabolize the radiation. Like your blood did for the Mount-” Clarke wisely cuts herself off while Echo attempts to still her trembling hand by twisting it in her tank top. The heart battering her ribcage echoes in her ears as she tries to reign in her rapid, shallow breaths. The pain radiating through her chest is reflected in Clarke’s shining blue eyes as the younger woman tries once more. “Echo, I swear I’m not going to hurt you.”

Echo’s terror manifests in a morbid laugh as she lashes out, “Really, Wanheda? Isn’t that what you’re good at?”

Clarke’s expression hardens as this sinks in. Her eyes flick briefly up to Raven, then back to Echo. Oddly, this angry look frightens Echo less than the attempts to console her. Maybe because anger and violence are so much more familiar in her life. The fruits of Queen Nia’s cruelty, of being raised a warrior. “Do you want to feel better or not?” demands Clarke, her voice dropping an octave. Somehow paralyzed by this new demeanor, Echo can only respond with a slight nod. Bending down to pick up the stand, Clarke rights it and spits, “Then sit down and shut the fuck up.”

Swallowing hard, Echo inches back toward the table and eases herself down onto the chair. By the time she’s seated, the hostility in Clarke’s expression has melted away, replaced by a quiet determination. While Clarke hangs the bag on the stand and readies the needles and tubing, Echo wipes her sweaty palms on her pants and attempts again to settle her breathing.

Joining Echo in sitting, Clarke raises an eyebrow. “Ready?”

“No.” Swallowing hard, Echo gives her a nod of permission anyway.

“Turn your palm up and make a fist,” Clarke instructs her. Echo does as she’s told, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her face away for good measure. The needle pierces her skin, and a sharp breath fills the air. It must be hers. Feeling woozy, Echo squeezes her fist tighter in an attempt to retain some grasp on the present. She feels a piece of tape being pressed down over the needle then, surprisingly, a hand closing over her fist. “Echo, it’s okay,” she hears Clarke’s distorted voice say. “You’re on the island. You’re safe here. The Mountain is gone.” A tiny squeeze of her hand pulls her back into the moment in time to hear Clarke’s tone turn teasing. “You helped blow it up, remember?”

An ironic chuckle pops from Echo’s lungs before she can stop it, and without thinking she opens her fist, allowing their palms to make contact. “How could I forget?” The gentle caress of Clarke’s thumb against the meat of her palm lulls her into a sense of security, and she stupidly opens her mouth. “I thought it would make-”

When Echo catches herself and stops, Clarke urges her, “What?”

Clarke’s sincerity is evident in her expression, in the way she’s looking at Echo like she’s the only other person on the face of the planet. Not that that’s far from the truth. Echo sighs, letting her shoulders droop. She’s already completely made of a fool of herself in front of this woman. What else does she have to lose? Biting her lip, she drops her eyes and admits, “I thought it would make the nightmares stop.”

Her hand gets another soft squeeze before Clarke lets go to insert the second needle. This one is easier. “I have nightmares about that place too,” admits Clarke as she slides two more into the crooks of her own elbows without so much as a flinch. 

Impressed at Clarke’s stoicism but determined not to show it, Echo presses, “About killing everyone?”

“Some of them were good people.”

That’s fucking absurd. Echo can’t help but laugh. “Good people who stuffed me in a cage and drained my blood?”

“Not all of them took the blood treatments,” Clarke informs her. “And some of them helped us.”

About to argue this further, Echo stops when she remembers something. Someone. “That girl,” she says quietly. “The one in the harvest chamber.”

Clarke’s eyes fall to the table. “Maya.”

“Yeah.” Echo remembers now, from when Maya revived Bellamy. Maya was Jasper’s friend, or maybe girlfriend. That must be the same Jasper who just died at Arkadia. Trying to keep all these names straight on top of everything else is proving to be a challenge, in her deteriorated state. In any case, Clarke’s somber expression tells Echo that this is one person she feels particularly guilty about. “She seemed good.”

“She was,” affirms Clarke, setting her jaw as she tapes the needles down. Taking a deep breath, she leans in to open the valves. “Okay, here we go.”

Echo shudders as she watches the black blood flow through the tubing and into her arm. The familiar feeling of blood being sucked through her body makes it drain from her head, and she leans forward to rest her forehead on the cool metal table.

“You okay?” asks Clarke.

Anything but okay, Echo pastes on a brave face and responds with a weak nod. “Just dizzy.”

Apparently unaware that it’s not due to the radiation, Clarke tells her, “Hopefully this will make that go away.”

Fingers twitching, Echo stays still and tries not to think about needles and blood. And pain and hunger. And the awful smell of decaying bodies, of death. She’s not very successful.

It can only be ten to fifteen minutes later when shuffling and voices from upstairs start to filter down to the lab floor. Echo keeps her eyes closed, listening as a single pair of footsteps descends the metal stairs. Heavy ones. Male, probably Bellamy’s. Monty and Murphy are both smaller guys, Echo’s height and relatively lightweight.

“Hey,” Clarke says as the footsteps approach.

“Hey,” replies Bellamy, confirming Echo’s suspicion. Rounding the table with cautious steps now, he inquires, “Echo? Are you okay?”

She is feeling a bit better, truth be told. Still jumpy as all hell and weak from the earlier adrenaline rush, but the nausea is passing, at least. “I’m fine,” she says to the floor. Knowing the escalating tremors in her hands suggest otherwise, she curls both back into fists. It doesn’t help when she she hears and feels Bellamy stepping closer. He’s always been able to unnerve her in a way she hates. And admittedly kind of likes. The air is pushed from her lungs when Bellamy’s hand tentatively comes to rest on her back, stealing her breath in a much more pleasant way than he did last night.

Mind suddenly whirring again, Echo tenses up at the phantom sensation of his hands closing around her throat. The murder in his eyes in that moment, she’d seen it once before. Back in the harvest chamber, when she was straining to hold onto Lovejoy’s wrist through the bars of her cage. But knowing it’s only a memory, she doesn’t shrink away from his touch. Despite their recent altercation, she still finds him easier to trust than any other Sky Person, even Wan... even Clarke.

Still in somewhat of a daze, Echo barely hears the next set of footsteps approaching moments later. “Is this a bad time?” asks a female voice. It belongs to that other girl, not Raven or Emori. The one who helped her into the rover. Echo can’t remember her name.

“It’s fine, Harper,” answers Clarke. “What’s up?”

“Monty wants to know if you can do me next,” says Harper. “I was exposed back at Arkadia and I’m still not feeling one hundred percent.”

“Sure. Tell Emori I’ll do her as well, if this works.” A hand cups Echo’s shoulder and gives it a gentle shake. “Echo, is it working?”

“I think so, yeah.” Figuring she may need to be more convincing, she opens her eyes and straightens up. Bellamy’s hand slides off her back as she does this, and she finds herself wishing he’d put it back on her shoulder. He doesn’t. Blinking over to Harper, she notices the quieter girl observing her closely, peering at her face. It’s probably still drained of all color, and she can feel beads of sweat forming on her brow. Embarrassing.

“You were in the Mountain,” concludes Harper after a long moment. When Echo’s eyes narrow, she explains, “I was there too. Drilled for my bone marrow.”

“Sorry,” mumbles Echo. It’s the only response she can come up with right now.

Harper shrugs, shoving her hands in her pockets. “So were Monty and Raven. We get it.”

Feeling Bellamy’s eyes on her, Echo blinks up to find him also examining her face. As he reaches for her jaw, she flinches. Bellamy freezes, a flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. After a long shared gaze that allows Echo’s shoulders to relax, he slowly reaches the rest of the way. Turning her head side to side, he remarks, “Your face is looking better.”

Tilting her head in his hand, she cocks a sassy eyebrow. “What’s wrong with my face, Bellamy?”

“Only your mouth,” he retorts. A tiny smirk grows on his lips as she playfully narrows her eyes. “You had a rash on your cheeks. It looks to be clearing up.”

“Already?” she asks, lifting a hand to feel for herself.

“Short delay,” observes Clarke. “Means your blood is clearing quickly. It’s probably about time to give someone else a turn.”

“Emori can go next,” says Harper. “She needs it more than I do. I’ll go get her.”

Watching Harper’s retreat with vacant eyes, Echo muses, “So much faster than the Mountain.”

“Nightblood was designed to metabolize radiation,” explains Clarke. “It’s really good at it.”

“Wish I’d had it when I was dangling from my ankles,” Echo deadpans, her lips turning up in a wry smirk. As she’s sinking back in the chair, Bellamy lays his hand over her fist, twitching his mouth sympathetically. A strange moment follows as Bellamy flits his eyes over to Clarke, who is watching them quietly. When she blinks away, so does he. Pushing off from the table, he continues into the lab, touching Echo’s shoulder softly in passing.

Squinting as she absorbs this, Echo looks at Bellamy over her shoulder, then back at Clarke. She raises a curious eyebrow at the blonde currently avoiding her gaze. “Is this a thing?”

“No,” mutters Clarke. Meeting Echo’s eyes, she declares, “There’s nothing going on between me and Bellamy.”

Though far from convinced, Echo decides not to push. Instead she nods and states what she has already gathered. “You’re with that blond Trikru lady. The one from the fire.”

“Niylah. And no, not really. Just here and there.”

“I guess that will make things easier,” shrugs Echo. “Better not to have any attachments.”

Squinting doubtfully, Clarke cocks her head. “Then why were you upset about Roan banishing you?” What a stupid fucking question. Echo’s clan was everything to her. She’s barely opened her mouth when she realizes that’s Clarke’s point. “I ran away for three months, after the Mountain. Bore all my pain on my own.” Clarke’s unrelenting eyes drill into Echo’s as she lets that sink in. “Worst decision I ever made.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Echo points out.

“Maybe not,” says Clarke. “But coming after us? That was the right choice.”

It sure didn’t feel like it when Murphy demanded she hand over her suit for Emori. Even riding in on a literal white horse and saving all their lives wasn’t enough to be brought into the fold. “Well, of course,” snorts Echo. “I saved you all.”

“And yourself,” Clarke chips in pointedly. “We’re not leaving you behind. You know that, right?” At Echo’s silent blink, she narrows her eyes. “Why would I bother treating you if we were leaving you to die anyway?”

“I don’t know,” admits Echo, averting her eyes.

Echo has just felt Clarke’s palm cover her fist again when she speaks the words, “ _Oso laik yu brana kru_.” Blinking up in surprise, Echo meets Clarke’s earnest gaze. “You’re one of us now.”

“I’ll never be Skaikru.” And she wouldn’t want to be.

“You will be in about ten hours,” Clarke teases her. “The new Skaikru, anyway.” Catching Echo’s nervous glance at the rocket, she adds, “It’s okay to be sc-”

“I’m not scared,” snaps Echo.

“Okay.” Clarke makes no more attempts to converse until Emori’s footsteps alert them to her presence. Reaching to close the valves, Clarke nods at the second Grounder as she approaches. “Hey.”

“It’s working?” asks Emori. When Clarke nods again, Emori’s lips quirk and she shoots her a dry, “Maybe you should’ve let your mom shoot me up after all.”

So Emori was supposed to get nightblood? Be tested with it? Roan never mentioned anything like that. Echo doesn’t ask, either. Absorbing information in passing and feigning disinterest is a technique she’s used many a time when on assignment. Instead she grits her teeth as she feels the needles being plucked from her skin, dressings being taped over top. “If you’re still not feeling well, I’ll give you another round later,” Clarke assures her.

Nodding silently, Echo stands on shaky legs and retreats further into the lab. Rounding a corner, she sinks back against the wall and buries her face in her hands. She’s been on the verge of tears ever since Roan told her she was Azgeda no more, and she can no longer hold them back. Not with Mount Weather fresh in her memory. Not when she’s about to literally leave her whole world behind.

Even if the plan works, the situation feels halfway hopeless. She’ll be stuck on a spaceship for five years with people she’s captured, threatened, held at knifepoint. Clarke is wrong, she’s not one of them. She never could be, not after the things she’s done to Skaikru. At least Octavia won’t be there. She’d probably throw her off the ship. Float her. Is that the word?

As the tears flow freely down her cheeks, Echo fights to keep them silent. If she has even a shred of dignity left, she intends to save it. Her shoulders shake as she muffles her sobs with palms clapped over tight lips, her intermittent gasps for air louder than she’d like. Legs threatening to cave under her, she’s about to sink to the floor when she feels a pair of eyes on her and splits her fingers to shoot whoever has discovered her a death glare. Bellamy. Terrific.

Echo isn’t sure what to expect, given their tumultuous relationship. A rebuke, another hand on her shoulder, a sympathetic word? There is sympathy in his gaze, but Bellamy says nothing. Stepping closer, he catches Echo off guard by drawing her into his arms. Though it wounds Echo’s pride, she can’t bring herself to resist. Lonely as she is, any comfort is welcome. Sliding her arms around his waist, Echo buries her face in the crook of his shoulder.

The warmth of his body and soft caresses of his hands only add to the slew of emotions, making it harder to hold anything in. But it’s such a relief at the same time. When was she last held like this? She can’t even remember. Unfortunately, it’s harder to smother her sobs in his neck, and with the extra fuel he’s just thrown on the fire, Echo is definitely making noise now. Not wails of despair or anything like that, but choking sobs that echo off the walls and back to her ears. Clarke and Emori can definitely hear, if not everyone in the lab. Fuck.

Eventually the tears stop coming, leaving Echo with sticky cheeks and a bruised ego as her crying subsides to whimpers. With a final sniffle, she wipes her eyes on his shirt and lifts her face. Something about Bellamy’s expression strikes her as sad too, but it’s a hopeful kind of sad. Not the kind she’s been feeling since Roan banished her. Slowly raising a hand from her back, he runs his fingers through her hair, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye on the way down. But as his fingertips graze her neck, she recoils instinctively.

Bellamy’s jaw twitches, eyes falling to the floor. “Echo, I want you to know…” Sighing, he forces himself to meet her gaze. “Last night, I wasn’t trying to kill you. And it wasn’t personal.” She cocks an eyebrow, and he shoots her a look. “Come on. You know it was about Octavia.”

“You sure you haven’t wanted to do that since Mount Weather?” she sasses him. At his confused blink, she specifies, “The second time.”

“I know that wasn’t personal either,” admits Bellamy. Swallowing hard, he averts his eyes again. “But it hurt that you betrayed me.”

Echo’s eyes roll so hard she’s surprised they don’t fall out. “I was saving your life, Bellamy. If I hadn’t seen you there and made up that story, you’d be dead. Raven and Octavia too.”

“And if I’d called a scout on you instead of sneaking out to stop you from cheating, _you’d_ be dead,” counters Bellamy. “Probably your whole clan, too.”

Sadly shaking her head, Echo blinks away. “I don’t have a clan.”

Bellamy tips her chin up to call her gaze back, and this time she doesn’t even flinch. “You do now,” he declares, the sincerity in his voice and eyes undeniable. “We’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

Echo thought she’d run out of tears, but her eyes are stinging yet again. Last time Bellamy made a promise to her, he kept his word. He came back for her. She can’t help but believe him. Wrapping her arms back around his waist, Echo leans into Bellamy again, smiling as the tears trickle down her cheeks.

She belongs.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Oso laik yu brana kru_. = We are your new clan.


End file.
